


Worth It

by phlight



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Attempt at Humor, Crack, F/M, Halloween Costumes, I don't intend to kink shame furries at all this is just really dumb and I should feel bad, POV Second Person, What Have I Done, stupid sexy panda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-26 16:36:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12561604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phlight/pseuds/phlight
Summary: Seungri wants to know if you have a thing for pandas.





	Worth It

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:
> 
> This isn’t like my usual fics. No men touching each other on the butt. Well...not explicitly...there might be read-between-the-lines butt-touchery afoot. But I’m not tagging the ship bc then it looks like I’m fishing for pity kudos.
> 
> I wrote this in three days, which for me is breakneck pace. I‘m unwashed, my head hurts, my family has disowned me. Worth it. It also means this is raw, barely edited sewage. 
> 
> It’s written in second person POV. Tumblr scenario say whaaaat?
> 
> It’s crack fic based on a question I asked another Seungri fan: “What if the only way you ever got to sleep with him was if he was wearing a panda head?” Spoiler: WOULD.
> 
> So much porn. I don’t even know if it’s good porn, but the spices must flow so I just let them. “Huhuhu so this what you wanna do with Seungri, ey?” Yeah yeah yeah.
> 
> I don’t really follow FT Island so if Jonghoon is not actually nuts, I’m sorry for shaming his upstanding character. All I know is that Seungri loves him and called him Funi while complimenting his ass (?) that one time so I assume they act dumb and hilarious whenever they get the opportunity.

* * *

_No. NO!_

This was not how you had envisioned your evening. You were two hours into Seungri's Halloween bash and two seconds from breaking your vow of silence, ready to tell all these happy assholes in their sexy nurse, sexy witch, and sexy axe murder victim getups where to go. But here you were, pulled into the center of another rowdy selca against your will.

Why?

Because you were a sexy gorilla.

* * *

Jonghoon deserved some kind of punishment for talking you into this ludicrous hell. The idea sounded...well, not good, but like they'd put some thought into it when he and Seungri first pitched it to you over beers and fried chicken at Mealddang Pocha. The two of them were co-owners in a new Osaka nightclub, its opening day slated for Halloween. Seungri had to throw a huge NHR party, of course, whether or not he was supposed to be taking a break during a brief lull in Bigbang's comeback tour. The Japanese partner's only request was to choose the party's theme.

Jonghoon explained that while Halloween was incredibly popular with Japanese club kids, their interpretation of the holiday was rather commercial.

"Well, that doesn't sound too different from the United States,” you said, tossing down your last wing bone.

“He means it's gonna be cheesy as hell,” Seungri said. He didn't look too upset about it. Jonghoon dropped his businessperson act immediately, finishing his beer before he looked you straight in the eye.

“Did I mention that our partner is a furry?”

Your mouthful of soju burned as you choked it down. Seungri hovered over you at once, slapping your back and wetting a napkin for your mouth.

“For god's sake, Funi. Don't kill my wife before—” Seungri suddenly shut up, which was highly suspect.

“Before what?” you croaked, looking up at him with narrowed eyes.

“Before...umm...before I...buy you a house?”

“What? When have I ever asked you to buy me anything, Lee Seunghyun?”

“You ask me all the time to get you free waffles!”

“My sides,” Jonghoon wheezed. He thought the dumbest stuff was hilarious when he was wasted, which might explain the longevity of his friendship with Seungri. You rolled your eyes.

“Okay, fine, private joke. Idiots,” you muttered, not really meaning it. You loved the easy camaraderie between these two, admired how they managed to stay close despite their hectic schedules.

“You only love me for my waffles,” Seungri pouted. “I knew it.”

“It's the sugar, sugar daddy,” Jonghoon said.

“You both need to stop,” you said, “or order me another drink. And that doesn't count as asking you to buy me something. _”_

Seungri switched gears while Jonghoon put in the order.

“So, we were wondering. Since we'll probably be back and forth until the opening day, and I'll be in China for the whole week before that, and you can't get away from work—”

“A whole week!” cried Jonghoon, sobbing imaginary tears into his fists.

“Fuck you,” Seungri said. “As I was saying, we were wondering if you wanted to come to the party.”

“Oh. Huh.” You sat for a minute, spinning your empty bottle between your palms. Your gut churned a little. But the way they were both looking at you, like expectant puppies...you sighed. It had been too long since you'd been out with Seungri and his friends, and despite Jonghoon's ribbing he was more than familiar with the reason for his best friend's seeming neediness.

You'd been with Seungri for over two years, but your marriage was just five months old. At first your relationship status had seemed like a potential new lease on life, a taste of the freedom you used to know – maybe you would go out in public! Maybe you could even hold hands! But of course, nothing with Seungri was ever that simple. He'd been dragged to hell and back as soon as the news came out that he was dating a foreigner, and when it was further revealed that you were _already engaged_ , a sizable contingent of the fans lost their collective shit. Rumors spread, theories were crackpotted, dirt was dug. When they couldn't find anything substantial, they made it up. Everything from you were pregnant with [insert other married member's name]'s baby and that your marriage was a cover to save _his_ , to Seungri owed your family money from a bad real estate investment, to the aliens made him do it. Seungri had been vaguely surprised, then resigned – “They only care about me when they want to explain to me just how badly I've fucked up.”

By far, the most popular excuse for Seungri's social gaffe was that you were a beard. A very unattractive, untalented, unworthy beard. Once Jiyong's fans got involved, the abuse became a black hole of suck. You'd had to change your phone number twice, shut down all of your SNS accounts, and then they'd come for you at work. After a few more incidents, you admitted more stringent security measures had to be taken. Jiyong felt like shit, Seungri felt like shit, you felt like shit. You all decided the best course of action was to lay low for awhile, until things cooled down and people got used to the new normal. But that meant back to sneaking around, which was not only time consuming, but increasingly demoralizing. You were _married_ , dammit, and you resented feeling like you'd done something wrong by loving one another. Seungri told you how it would be, you had a rational understanding, but emotions made it hard to accept reality.

Your career efforts took off despite the harassment, so work demands coupled with all the extra layers of subterfuge meant you and Seungri had even less time to spend together. Sometimes you worried that your marriage would be over before it even really got a chance to start, but then you thought about the two years you'd already had with him. You fell more in love with him every day. It was...kinda cheesy, actually.

In short, it had been a challenging period of adjustment, but you looked forward to a long future with your husband, and making the most of every minute you spent together.

The end.

No. Not the end.

“Jonghoon had this idea,” Seungri said, nails tapping the table top.

“What! It was totally your idea!” Jonghoon slammed his beer down on the table, some of the liquid sloshing out.  
  
“Whoa, bro, chill.”

Your soju arrived. You quickly uncapped, filled your glass, and tossed it back; whatever was coming, you needed to be prepared.

“ _Jonghoon_ had this idea that we should all wear costumes,” Seungri said, a mile a minute, “and since Yuki-san wanted the theme to be 'Party Animals'—”

“Party Animals,” you repeated, deadpan.

“Funi is gonna be a cheetah or something lame like that,” Seungri went on, briefly interrupted by a pretty impressive purr/growl from Jonghoon, “and I'm gonna be a panda because he always has to be the cooler one, and we thought—well, what do you want to be?”

“Me?” You poured yourself another drink, watching them look at each other, then back at you. “I have to wear a costume, too?”

“Well, you don't 'have to,'” Seungri said, looking mildly put out. “But we thought you might _like to_. You know. Then you could come and hang out and not deal with any crazy bullshit?”

“Only the good kind of crazy,” Jonghoon nodded.

“Like you?” you said, tilting your head.

“Seungri-ya, I told you she wouldn't agree.”

“Wait up,” you held up a hand as you kicked Jonghoon under the table. Seungri smirked, both of his dimples coming out. It was a deviously charming strategy on his part, you thought. Because you'd caught what he said before. _We thought?_ “I have to wear like, a fur suit or something?” Yuki's face came to mind. He'd always seemed so...square? “Like a stuffed animal, but with boobs?

“Naaaah,” Seungri said, “nothing like that. Just something that covers your face?”

“A mask,” Jonghoon said.

“I don't think a mask is going to cut it,” you said, after giving it a few seconds of thought. “Have you seen some of the pictures they have of me, like the ones they took when we were on vacation with—”

“Oh my god. Those stupid couple rings,” Seungri interrupted. “I told Youngbae ours had an emerald in it and what does he fucking go and do?”

“He didn't buy it,” you reminded him. “Fendi gave it to him. He had to wear it at least once.”

“Yeeeeeah, but he didn't have to wear it right then,” Seungri said, and now he was gulping down his drink.

“It was just that one time,” you said, shaking your head. Seungri shrugged, as if to say, _that's all it takes._

“The ring that sank a thousand ships!” Jonghoon cried. Okay, he was far enough gone to be making no sense. You checked your phone.

“It's getting late you guys. Let me sleep on it?”

“Gorilla,” Jonghoon said, very sure of himself.

“Excuse me?” you sighed.

“Gorilla. Gorilla! No one can see you if you're a gorilla!”

“A gorilla,” Seungri whispered. He took a contemplative sip.

“You want me to be a gorilla? I mean, wear a...a gorilla suit?”

“You would be a _sexy_ gorilla,” Seungri said, nodding sensibly. “Like our club mascot.”

“Gorillas aren't monkeys, though,” Jonghoon pointed out. So helpful. Seungri waved this away with a _meh_ expression.

“I—” Words failed you. You knew Seungri was a dork with a flare for absurdity before you married him, but this was next level. Jonghoon was no better.

“You know you married a genius, right? Seungchan, she doesn't appreciate you. Please divorce her and marry me!” he cried, swinging his arms wide open. Heads were starting to turn.

“That was just your rescue plan if you were still single at forty,” you said, finishing the old joke for Seungri and your last shot at one go. Time to get them out of here before they could hatch any more harebrained schemes. “I'm not wearing a gorilla suit."

“Not even a _sexy_ gorilla suit?” Jonghoon frowned.

“How in the hell is a gorilla suit supposed to be sexy!”

“It's your inherent sexiness that makes it so,” Seungri said, still nodding sensibly.

“I love you guys,” Jonghoon said, resting his head on his hands. “I really, really love—”

“I'm _not_ wearing one.”

* * *

 “Gorilla! Gorilla! Dance with me, Gorilla-san!” chanted yet another drunken reveler. He sounded a hell of a lot like Jonghoon, He Who Had Gotten You Into This Mess, but unfortunately he was not. No, Jonghoon's cute furry ass was up on stage with your big booty ho of a husband. Okay, he wasn't a ho. Seungri was nothing if not loyal, especially to Bigbang. So, he was blasting their hits while wearing an enormous panda head. The rest of him was clad in casual clothing: sweaty but flattering, clinging in all the right places. You wouldn't normally have a syllable of complaint to utter about any of that, except that you were extremely jealous. You were also perspiring, although less in a dewy, alluring way and more in the way some idiot might be if they wore a thick layer of polyester covered by acrylic hair and sticky vinyl to a nightclub.

You gritted your teeth as another sweat bead rolled its stinging way into your eye.

Okay, obviously you should blame yourself first, but besides Jonghoon and Seungri, you could point a gorilla finger at Kwon “Kitty” Jiyong. The fun _really_ started after he showed up, fashionably late and lavishly lush, having pre-gamed at some other event in Tokyo a couple hours previous. He'd insisted on a selca with you moments after entering the club, turning his lithe frame into yours and screwing up his lips into a ridiculous(ly adorable) kissy face. He planted a few wet ones on the cheek area of your mask before you mimed bashfulness and pretended to smack him with your banana prop. You could see the headlines writing themselves as the cameras flashed and the fangirls screamed. After that it was no holds barred. You guessed several of the kisses you received after that were in search of Jiyong’s sloppy seconds, rather than being a genuine display of affection for your fabulous ape self. No, you had ceased to be a novelty in your own right — now you were “the sexy gorilla loved by G-Dragon.”

That Jonghoon and Seungri split their sides laughing any time they caught sight of you wasn’t doing wonders for your mood. Seungri was _pointing_ and _taking pictures._ He was so gonna get it later.

It got worse when people got handsy, and you couldn’t really figure out why. The “sexy gorilla” concept was just a joke between you, Seungri, and Jonghoon. The costume was huge and bulky and covered with coarse fake hair. So why on earth did people keep grabbing your ass or trying to grope your chest?

Then you overheard one sexy schoolgirl whisper to another: “I know who’s in there. It’s—”

The name she dropped belonged to Jiyong’s ex. _Oh my fucking god._ Your eyeballs might roll right out of your face. Last you’d heard, she was taking a post-breakup tour of the world’s most beautiful beaches, making sure to take devastatingly glamorous bikini shots on every inviting stretch of sand. And despite that, you knew she must be hurting. And you’d really liked her and you missed her. And then, from a third girl:

“Whatever, she was only a—” She rubbed at her chin.

 _Ooooh. Nasty little witch._ Literally!

“Yeah, everyone knows GD has a panda fetish.”

They all cackled, just to prove your point.

“Well, DJ Panda is too busy with that other person. She's such a snob, she never greets the fans like he does.”

Because the last time you did, you took a splash of Pocari Sweat to the face. Seungri kept calm in public, but flipped tables in private. _What if it had been hot coffee?_ There were no charges, but YG had to make a Statement, etc. _Fuuuuuck_ , it made you sick with embarrassment just to remember it.

“Ugh, she's not even as pretty as Jiyong!”

Well, that you couldn’t argue with.

“They deserve better than those low-class whores.”

Okay, most of the time you could turn the other cheek, but you were hot, and the vinyl in your mask was off-gassing, and you were definitely about to go full silverback. Maybe if they could manage to pry their judgmental witch noses out of other people's business, they could smell the bull they'd been shitting all along and let you all live in peace.

_Haaaaa. Hahaha. Maybe I'm high from the fumes._

What they didn't know was that Jiyong had leaned into you after he'd taken his banana beating, showing you the photos he'd posted to the Bigbang group chat. You'd seen a few replies, too:

 _DS: [_ _ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ_ _]_

_T.O.P: [ask her out for me]_

_T.O.P: [tell her i'm hotter than seungri]_

_T.O.P: [see]_

He sent a still from his “Doom Dada” video. You were about to break your vow of silence with a shriek of laughter when your husband's reply appeared. You read it, then looked up at the stage. How could he do all that and still be texting? His phone was basically an extension of his hand at this point.

_SR: [Wow MY WIFE is so beautiful tonight!!!! T.O.P, we can give the costume to Jiyongie-hyung? He can wear it for you if you really like it that much???]_

“Holy shit, he's gonna regret that at the airport tomorrow,” Jiyong muttered, his eyes bugging out. “Guess he gets jealous, huh?” Then his smile wavered, which broke your heart. Jiyong's happiness could be precarious. “It is you in there, right?”

You leaned in close, speaking for the first time since you'd entered the main room of the club.

“It's me, Jiyong-ssi,” you whispered. You pulled your own phone out of the costume's hidden pocket. Your lock screen was a behind-the-scenes shot of Seungri backstage on their current tour, asleep on your shoulder. Daesung and Seunghyun photobombed from opposite sides of the frame, both doing their best open-mouthed unconscious maknae impressions. Jiyong had taken the picture himself, then sent it to you. Only you.

Jiyong visibly relaxed, regaining his pretty smile as he snickered at the picture all over again.

“I've gotta go call that big ape,” he whispered. “I can't believe he'd hit on you right in front of me. Like, I went to all this trouble. Wouldn't you feel a little bad if you were missing this?” He gestured down at his costume, then struck a pose for you when you gave him a thumbs up and a big, dumb unsexy gorilla nod. He was a sparkly feline vision. The real artistry was in his makeup, though. Talk about cat eyes. He was gorgeous and desirable and every inch the superstar, but he was about to go search out a quiet corner. Because when it came to your true selves, you all had to be so damned quiet.

You sighed inside your suit, but no one heard you.

* * *

Seungri was offstage by now, but still in panda mode. He'd even risked a photo with you, Jonghoon and Yuki included, all of them acting like you were just one of the guys. You usually were when you hung out with Seungri's friends, in a respectful “wife of my cool young boss” kind of way. Tonight was different though. Charades and pictures were fun for three minutes, but then your admirers would drift off to find chattier club partners. Plus, Seungri and Jonghoon had only told a select group who you were, so even the people you actually knew might not realize it was you in there.

Plus, you were simmering away inside your costume. It was hard to drink through the suit, hard to scratch itches, hard to see out of the eye holes, hard to sit back and just be. You were cranky and moody and wishing you didn't feel twice as old and unhip as your actual age. And now here was this inebriated spooky clown demanding you get down with him, and if he didn't look like he had the grabbiest hentai hands in the entire country you didn't know who did.

You shook your head and backed away from him. You headed for the ladies' room, thought better of it, and chose a narrow staircase instead. You passed the balcony level, then paused on the landing to catch your breath, reaching for the zipper at the base of your neck.  
  
“Shit! Fuck!” you whispered. Then you said it out loud. Then you stomped. None of these actions magicked the zipper into moving. You couldn't get a good grip on it wearing the stupid gorilla gloves, so you took them off and chucked them straight down the staircase. Your fit of pique made you feel a little better, but the zipper wasn't any easier to manipulate with your bare fingers. You almost broke a nail, teared up for a second, and then started laughing. This was some fucked up shit.

First you texted Seungri, but for once the phone addict failed to respond in .072 seconds. Then you texted Jonghoon. No dice.

_Fine, fuck it!_

You called Jonghoon. He answered with an admonishment.

“You aren't supposed to talk! You're gonna blow your cover!”

Bad Jonghoon.

“Jonghoon-ssi,” you said sweetly.

“Uh oh,” he replied.

“I need you to give CEO Lee a message for me. Can you do that?”

“You mean DJ Panda, right?”

“Jonghoon, tell Lee Seunghyun to meet me in his office. _Immediately_.”

You hung up before he could reply and tackled the last set of stairs. There wasn't much of a third level to the club, just a few rooms to house filing cabinets and network equipment. This building was centrally located near several of Seungri's other Osaka haunts, so he had designated the last room on the right as his local “office.” It had a nice view, a desk, and a few personal items. There was even a framed picture of the two of you, in full wedding regalia. For a second it made you feel all gooey and mushy. Then you made a face at the handsome jerk standing next to you in the photo.

_Where is he?!_

On cue, you heard footsteps on the stairs, fast and light. Seungri was in peak physical condition lately, wanting to prove everyone wrong when they said he'd slip straight down the ramen-and-beer slope as soon as he completed his enlistment. Seungri still indulged in plenty of both, but it was rare for him to skip a workout. Besides, he loved to preen and flex in front of the other Bigbang members, and the fans, and you.

Well, you might be fond of the guy, but you were no screaming fangirl. The office door opened, Seungri came in, and immediately took a gorilla mask to the face. Or he would have, if he wasn't still wearing his own mask. He'd had to tilt his entire body slightly sideways to fit through the door.

“Ya, what was that?” he flinched, voice booming out from inside of the panda head.

“My patience!” you snapped. “Took you long enough.”

“Aish, everyone wants a picture, you know how it is. DJ Panda is popular.” He sounded so pleased with himself. “And so are you! I think this costume party was actually a really good idea.”

“You do, huh?”  
  
“Yeah. Maybe next year we could do it again? Not here necessarily, it could be back home. Or maybe Shanghai? Or maybe—”

“Maybe you can shut up and help me get out of this stupid costume, because it was a _terrible_ idea,” you interrupted.

“Uhh...you okay, Ms. Gorilla?”

“No. I am not okay. I am stuck. And I'm really hot.” You said this last with a little quaver in your voice, though you hadn't meant to be a big crybaby about it. But it was true. All the social awkwardness was one thing, but the physical discomfort on top of it was another entirely.  
  
Seungri was a flurry of action before you could say anything else, closing the door behind him and rushing over to your side.

“How do you get out of this thing?” he muttered, feeling along the edge of the neckline. You shied away from the tickle. “Hold still!”

“If I knew how to get out, I would have. I think the zipper is stuck or I pulled it out of the track or something.”

“Ahh I see what happened. Some of the—I mean, some of _your_ hair got caught.”  
  
“My hair is stuck in the zipper?!” You felt around the base of your neck. You hadn't felt any pulling.

“Um.” Seungri giggled “Yeah, the hair here.” He patted your upper back. You were utterly confused, as you'd surely feel it on your scalp if that much of your hair was tangled up in the zipper teeth. Then it hit you.  
  
“Seungri. I don't have hair there.”

“DJ Panda,” he corrected. “And I understand, we all grow a little unwanted fuzz from time to time. I can send you to someone I know. She's fast and it doesn't even hurt. Much.”

“You're gonna be feeling some pain pretty soon if you don't cut the shit and help me out of this thing.”

He giggled again. He never took your threats seriously. Probably because all he had to do was turn on his puppy eyes – much cuter than the panda ones he currently sported – and you were powerless to resist him.

“Aish. This thing is really stuck. Hard to see it, too, with all your hairs in the way,” he complained. Not to mention he kept bumping into you every time he tried move in close.

“Maybe you could see better if you took off that stupid head.” You chose to the ignore the hairs comment.

“Huh?”

“Your head? Mask? Thing?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He felt along the edge of his own neck now. “This is all me, baby.”

“Seungri.”

“I don't know why you'd want me to take off my head anyway. Don't I look especially handsome tonight?” The panda head tilted up at the ceiling; you recognized his chin lifting pose.

“You look especially crazy.”

“It's because you drive me so crazy.”

You scoffed, then fanned at your face. He got the message, going back to the zipper. He pulled vertical at first, then horizontal. It wouldn't budge.

“What in the fu-hu-hucck,” he grumbled, bouncing with frustration.

“Don't, you're choking me!” He let go of you immediately, then caught you when you fell back against him. You turned around as you regained your footing. The panda head was off center. You started to laugh in spite of everything. It felt pretty good to laugh at him, actually, so you kept doing it, and it felt even better when he joined you. After a few seconds you thunked him lightly on the 'cheek,' then straightened the mask for him.

“See? I knew you weren't a real panda. Besides your head issues, wanna know how I know?”

“No. I'm totally real,” he said, shaking his head. The panda's head. Whatever.

“Then explain why you don't have paws.”

“I do have paws!” he protested, holding up his hands and then patting your face.

“I know the truth. You don't even like pandas.”

He gasped, laying one paw over his heart.

“That's a vicious lie.”

“Tell that to the 'idiot' who sent you another panda mug last week.” _Gotcha_.

“Okay, see, that was because it was another mug, not a panda mug specifically. And that was because Youngbae never knows when to let a joke die.”

You were up to thirteen mug deliveries and running out of places to store them. Seungri said you should just throw them out, explaining that your sense of practicality was no match for Youngbae's sense of humor. He was probably right. At least Christmas was coming up soon, with ample opportunities for targeted regifting.

“If you hadn't acted like a huge baby when you broke the first one in front of him, we wouldn't be in this situation.”

“Seunghyun-hyung broke it, I told you!” he insisted. “And it _was_ my favorite.”

“Oh really? He told me he was trying to liberate it from you because you said you were sick of it. _Because it had a panda face on it._ ”

“I can't believe you're taking their side over mine.” He crossed his arms.

“Seungri,” you said, trying to sound stern. “My neck is starting to hurt.”

“Okay, we'll try one more time. But after this I'm getting the scissors.”

You felt him brush spare hairs away from the base of your neck. Then he grunted, bearing down on the zipper with a steady pressure while you held the material taught at your neck; Seungri gave one last mighty tug. There was a pinging metal noise, followed by the muffled purr of ripping fabric before your hateful, hairy prison sagged loose around your shoulders.

You sighed with relief as Seungri helped you pull off the sleeves. You stepped out of the legs and he kicked the suit into the corner of the room with a shout of victory. The cool air of the office on your moist skin felt _amazing_. You shivered, welcoming the goosebumps of liberation.

Meanwhile, Seungri stared. Maybe. It was hard to tell where those glassy, vacant eyes were looking, exactly.

“What?!” you asked, thoroughly unnerved by his uncharacteristic stillness.

“That?” His hand came up, index finger extended. “ _That's_ what you've had on underneath this whole time?”  
  
You looked down at yourself. You knew the club would be stifling, even without the insulating properties of your costume, so you'd chosen a thin tank top and cotton shorts as your only underlayer. Paired with a scuffed pair of Chucks, you didn't find any part your outfit particularly alluring; there was an old chocolate milk stain on the shirt, for goodness' sake. Totally your husband's fault, by the way, when he'd tried to steal a sip and ended up tipping most of the glass down your front...sudden insight made your irritation flare anew.

“Yes, this is what I've had on! It used to be my favorite pajama set, before you ruined it! You did that on purpose, didn't you?” He took a step forward, finger still extended E.T. style. You watched as he trailed it along the slope of your shoulder, then down the softer flesh of your inner arm. Your goosebumps renewed themselves as a vivid memory came to mind; Seungri had insisted on getting a taste of the milk, one way or another. “Hey! Are you even listening to me?”

He persisted with the silent panda act a few moments longer, tracing along the swell of one of your breasts and heading toward its center before you slapped his hand away.

“You're so hot,” he muttered, seeming completely unbothered by your rejection.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. It probably wasn't just the air conditioning getting to you at this point, so maybe you couldn't exactly blame him for his eyes wandering to certain areas, but still. Being perved on by a panda was super weird.

_My face is up here!_

“Yes, I was. Very,” you snapped. “I feel better now. Thank you for your assistan—Seungri!”

“What?” He paused in mid-unzip.

“What are you doing!”

“I'm hot, too.”

You could _hear_ the smirk on his face. The worst part was how right he was.

“C'mon, don't you wanna see what I've got on under my costume?”

Costume? If the world's tightest jeans and a moist t-shirt counted as a costume now, it was news to you.

“Why are you like this,” you laughed, covering your face and shaking your head.

You knew him, of course, all too well. Which meant you knew the astonishing depth of his well of shamelessness. No line was too cheesy if it got him a laugh. The worst part was that you _did_ wanna see.

“Because I missed you,” he said, sounding sincere for once. You took your hands away when you heard the clink of his belt buckle, unable to hold back your laugh when he bent over and bonked the front of the giant stupid bear head on his office desk. Then he nearly tripped over the pants around his ankles when he tried to straighten back up.

“Shit!”

“Need some help?” You put a certain sway into your hips as you closed the space between you. You slid the tips of your fingers under the band of his briefs, started to work them down his hips.

“Some reciprocity would be nice—“

His words cut off with a sharp hiss. You had a few foolproof methods for shutting him up, but most of them couldn't be deployed in public. You glanced at the black mesh of the head's mouth opening as you swiveled your wrist, wishing you could look into his eyes while you did this to him. You sent his underwear the rest of the way down his legs before you replied.

“Only nice?”

He groaned low in his throat as you stroked faster, his hands coming up to rest on your shoulders. Contrary to all the rumors, Seungri was perfectly happy to let someone else take charge from time to time.

“ _Very_ nice.”

He tightened his grip when you tightened yours, his hips starting to rock with your rhythm. He let out a sad little honk of regret when you let go of him, and an actual whine when you ducked out of his grasp.

“Nooo—”

“Before this goes any further, I want to make sure you know who the most ridiculous person in this relationship is.” You squatted to tug the jeans off his ankles.

“What are you talking about?”

“You being like _this_ while you're wearing _that_.”

You couldn't resist giving his perpendicular erection a light swat on your way back up. His response was immediate, an eager twitch changing his angle to sixty degrees. When he spoke again, his voice had changed too.

“That was rude.”

“You deserve it,” you said, backing up as he leaned in. “You've been laughing at me all night.” The edge of his desk hitting your butt made you look back, and when you turned around he was close enough to kiss – if his entire face hadn't been covered by a bobble-headed horror.

“Because you're so cute.”

“Mmm. Sounds like a familiar excuse, _maknae_.”

That did it. He reached out and yanked the straps of your top and bra down, half-pinning your arms to your sides as the fabric twisted tight above your elbows. He pawed your breasts out of the cups, eschewing trivialities like clasps or hooks in his frenzy to have you bare under his hands. You arched into his touch, laughter faltering into a moan when he took you full in each hand, spreading his fingers to catch your nipples between them on every squeeze.

You looked down when you felt him poke into your thigh. It wasn't like you'd never seen an erection before, wasn't like you were unaware of this one's potential to turn you into a trembling mess...but something about how _all out_ he was tonight struck you as funny. Another giggle escaped before you could help it. It was just so – god help you –

“No,” he growled, gripping your chest almost to the point of pain. “Don't say it.”  
  
“Say what?” You played dumb, staring into the dark mesh with wide eyes. He gave your nipples a sharp tweak, making you gasp as he spun you around to face the desk.

“I know that look. You can tell me how _cute_ I am later, okay?”

“You said it first,” you pointed out, biting your lip on another laugh. He retaliated with another hard yank down on your clothes – shorts this time. He was leaning hot and heavy along the cleft of your ass before it dawned on you. “Oh my god. _You're not taking it off?_ ”

You looked back at him, earning yourself a firm press down to the cool, glossy surface of the desk.

“I should've made you stay on your knees,” he mused, “made you use that smart mouth.”

You took a second to ponder which was a more depraved act to do with a panda, sucking or fucking? Not that it mattered all that much; Seungri had made his choice. And he was a fine one to talk about being mouthy. Case in point: he was still stating the obvious, even as he glided his head along your slit, slicking a path down to your clit. You moaned when he drew a few lingering circles over it, wondering how much longer he'd tease you – had the two of you been missed yet?

“Besides. Feels like you don't actually mind all that much.” He took his hand off your back to grip your ass, pulling you open wider as he slid back up to your entrance. “I think you like it.”

 _I like_ you _, dummy_ , you thought, and then you were shuddering around the stretch of him as he pushed into you, smooth and delightfully hard. He moved his hands to your hips, pulling you back against him until he was as deep as he could get. His gratified noises might have been more arousing if they didn't have the distinct hollow noise of being issued from the inside of a fake head—

He started out slow, pulling out of you almost entirely, making sure you felt every inch of him as he sank back in. As much as you loved this thorough demonstration of his restraint, it made your impatience boil over yet again.

“Seungri?” He didn't respond, but his strokes grew even slower. You raised your upper body off the table to glare back at him. The mask's vapid neutrality stared back. _Stupid fucking panda!_ “If we're really doing this, then _do_ it.”

“Do what?” he asked, swaying his hips from side to side, but otherwise ceasing his movement entirely. He held you fast when you attempted to move your own hips, laughing aloud when you bared your teeth at him. “Wow, baby. Now you really do look like an animal.”

You could hear the smirk again. Okay, fine, if this was how it was gonna be. You'd fight fire with fire. Cheese with cheese.

“Then fuck me like one, pabo.”

You clenched your muscles around him to make your point. One soft huff – impressed? — issued from the panda head before he gave you what you demanded. His desk was too wide for you to grab the other side, so you attempted to plant your palms flat on top to brace yourself against the force of his thrusts.

“No,” he said, grabbing your wrists and pulling them behind you. “Just take it.”

He tilted his hips to reach the deepest part of you, using his entire length for each powerful stroke. You took it in silence at first, loving the sound of your bodies meeting, until one particularly hard fuck nearly buckled your knees. You cried out, short and sharp before you remembered where you were.

“Oooh, fuck,” he moaned, your slip up having an obvious effect on him. He loved making you come undone like this, loved it when he could make you even louder than him. You felt him swell harder inside you before he paused, repeating the curse until he regained his control. Then he was driving into you even faster than before, wanting to make you do it again.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. The juxtaposition between his usual breathy grunts and throaty, filthy encouragements had the same effect on you as always, sharp pulses of lust racing from your belly to your core and back again as he told you how sexy you were, how wet, how tight, how much he loved fucking you.

You made the mistake of opening your eyes when something fell off the desk, hitting the tiled floor with a metallic clang. Your gaze landed on a vanity mirror across the room, small but perfectly placed for you to see Seungri's – no, _DJ Panda's –_ head. You started to laugh again, because the entire thing was askew by this point. Could he even see what he was doing?

“Seungri-ya, please,” you groaned, feeling the build of your arousal level out as your giggles got worse. You'd never be able to unsee it.

“How can you laugh right now!”

His genuine outrage wasn't helping.

“I can't,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath. “Oh my god. Please take it off.”

He pulled out of you with a little growl, releasing your wrists; you flipped over to watch him struggle with the mask, the perfect picture of pantless male absurdity. He'd done it to himself, you reasoned. If only he'd let up on the joke sooner. Youngbae was a bad influence.

You stepped forward when he started to curse, helping him tilt the awkward shape back and forth until he found the right angle to slip it over his chin. The two of you lifted it off, revealing his face just as red and sweaty as yours had been inside the gorilla mask, his hair matted down in some spots and sticking straight up in others. He took the head from you and tossed it aside, chest heaving from all his previous exertions.

He was ridiculous, yes, but it didn't matter. Seeing him – the _real_ him, even all mussed up and wild-eyed – was all it took for you to want him back inside you. You put on your best apology face and held your arms out, hands opening and shutting. His expression softened as he obeyed, pressing his front to yours and his lips to your neck. You hummed happily, moving his face to yours with both hands while his hands kneaded at the sides of your thighs.

“Did you miss me?” he whispered, nipping at the underside of your jaw.

“Okay, stop,” you groaned. You thought he might actually listen to you when he brushed his lips over yours. You deepened the kiss, hungrier for the taste of him than you'd realized. He pulled away far too soon.

“You missed me.”

“Just keep kissing me!” He shied away as you pinched a soft place above his hip, then walked you back into the edge of his desk.

“And fucking you?” How could that smile be so sweet and so evil at the same time?

“Yes, please.”

“Get up there.” He patted the desk top. You hopped up, then laid back, supporting your weight on your elbows. This wasn't your first go-round in one of Seungri's offices, you knew how he liked it. But of course, he always had to manage the details. “Come down...down...a little farther—”

“Seungri, I'm going to fall off.”

“No way,” he said, raising his eyebrows and getting to his knees. “I've got to kiss you some more first.”

“Oh,” you said, the word dropping out of your mouth like a stone. He ran his hands up and down your calves, plucking at the edges of your socks with a silly grin.

Your legs naturally draped over his shoulders as he positioned himself in between them. Ecstatic muscle memory made your hips jump a little with anticipation, just from his proximity alone. Then his hot breath puffed over you, because he could never, ever stop.

“I missed _you_.”

“Are you talking to me, or my crotch?”

“Yes.”

He glanced up at you, eyes practically dancing as he leaned in. He kept his tongue flat and soft at first, the gentle pressure just enough to make you bend your knees and pull him closer. Your pleasure built as the moments passed; you lost track of the time. There were no voices from the hall, no distractions – only a faint beat from another room, unimportant, and the sound of his mouth on you, exhilarating. You couldn't hold back when he latched onto your clit for a full-on suck, crying out again as you rocked your hips toward his face. He reached up to steady your legs on his shoulders, opening you wider and redoubling his efforts. He sucked each of your labia separately before licking them apart, teasing at your entrance with just the tip of his tongue. You pushed toward him, seeking fullness.

“Mm, please,” you moaned, wiggling against his face.

“Please what?”

“Ugh, don't stop.” You reached down to pull him back in, sliding your fingers through his damp hair. He snickered as he began again, working his fantastic tongue in you with slippery little thrusts. And to think you'd almost missed out on this for that daft mask? You tugged at his hair almost by reflex, maybe a subconscious punishment.

“Mmph,” he protested. “Not so hard. Be careful.”

“You be careful,” you said, suddenly aware of your ever-more-precarious position on the edge of the desk. He moved his attention back up to your clit, being less than gentle now. _Fuck it, I'll just fall if I fal_ _l!_

You tilted your head back, staring at pattern on the ceiling tiles and listening to him make you wetter and wetter, feeling it trickle down over your ass. When he added in a firm flicking as he sucked, the sensation was almost too much. You whimpered, part of you wanting to move away and another wanting to show him you could take anything he gave you. He tightened his grip on your thighs, keeping his onslaught consistent until you nearly bucked him off of you.

“Seungri,” you said, struggling back up on your arms. “Your tongue is gonna fall off.”

He looked up, giving you a few more insolent licks even though he knew what you wanted. Finally he stood, letting your legs come down around his hips and leaning in to give you a _very_ wet kiss. He broke it off with a last sucking tug at your lips.

“Scoot over a little more.”

“I'm already right on the edge!”

He scrunched his nose at you in response, then burst out laughing when you scrunched yours back.

“I thought you were all done with the gorilla look tonight.”

“Now who's rude?!” you gaped at him.

He groped your ass under his hands, confident smile taking your breath away as effectively as anything else he'd done to you so far. You squeaked with surprise when he leaned forward, grinding himself against you. After five seconds of torture you were nearly done for, arms shaking from the strain of holding yourself up.

“Just put it in, oh my god...”

“You really missed me so much. You let me fuck you wearing a panda head.”

“Seungri,” you said, words even and measured. “I need you in me _now_.”

“So put it in.” He ran his tongue along the edge of his upper teeth as he watched you, a flash of mischief passing through his eyes. You tried to scoot forward a little more. You could feel the tip of him, knew he was _right there_. You scowled when he took a tiny step backward.

“I'm really going to fall,” you said, laughing desperately as you clutched at him with your thighs, trying to hook your ankles together behind his back. He stopped you.

“Nah,” he said, so casual. You would've smacked him if you could. He bent your legs back, pressing them to your chest and then spreading them before he let go of you. “Fuck. You look so hot.” You shuddered, both from the struggle of holding the position and from being completely exposed to him. He stepped up to you, then paused again. “I was just wondering how you want it.”

“Hard, Seungri, do me so fucking hard, _please_ —”

He leaned down to kiss you, his lips and face and tongue all tasting of you. You couldn't think of any other way to beg, so you waited. He moaned his pleasure into your mouth as he slid back inside you, hands going to your breasts again as he started to move.

“Yes,” you sobbed. “Yes, yes, yes.” Each affirmation was punctuated by the firm, wet smack of your bodies meeting – but now you were too far gone to care about being overheard. He'd worked you up so well you knew it wouldn't take long, the telltale signs of your orgasm spurring him to quicken his pace.

“Oh fuck yes, do it,” he said, gritting his teeth and angling himself forward inside of you. The desperate passion on his face as he tried to hold off his own end was what you brought you to yours. He sighed, harsh and triumphant when you froze underneath him, helpless to do anything but come, and come, and come— You screamed at him in your mind, wanting him to stop and wanting him to _never_ stop. Finally the sensation eased enough for you to take in a heaving breath. He bent down to smile against your open mouth, jostling a series of weak moans out of you before you went limp.

“Can I come in you?” His voice was husky and hopeful, his lips traveling from your mouth to your neck. You nodded while he licked at you, exhausted and pliable, but still able to feel a surge of heat in your belly when he rose up to look into your eyes. You always found him most beautiful at the end, when the fierce vitality of his body took over his mind, contracting his world down to the few vulnerable seconds when he was entirely yours.

He collapsed on you with a winded groan, the faint smell of his sweat wafting through his cologne. You clung to his shoulders until you were certain you wouldn't both just slide off the desk, petting your fingers through his hair until he lifted himself up. His smile was so sweet, and still, _still._

“What, Seungri?” you sighed, knowing he couldn't help it. Knowing you didn't really want him to, anyway.

“You look even hotter than before.” He blew a little stream of air into your face.

Well, at least it was a compliment. Sort of.

“It's your fault I'm a mess. Yours, and Jonghoon's, and—”

“I know, I know, you just wanted to stay home and pet the cat and live a life of peace and simplicity. And definitely _no_ costume parties.” He helped you sit up, then stand on shaking legs.

You peered at him until he met your eye, wary as always when his jokes sounded like they might be hitting a little closer to the truth than he meant to reveal.

“Seungri...I wish I could be with you always. You know that.”

He sighed, leaning back into you for a quick peck against your lips. This time when his eyes met yours they were soft, filled with a quiet longing. “I know. I _really_ missed you.”

“And I really like costume parties,” you pointed out. “I just don't like suits made of hair.”

“And if you didn't before, do you think you might have a...thing? For pandas now?”

“I'm going to the bathroom,” you mumbled, not ready to broach the subject of pandas so soon. He laughed, his voice sounding hoarse. You pulled up the straps of your sad, overstretched top and bent to retrieve your shorts from the floor. When you straightened back up he was leering. You leveled him with a direct stare until his grin was more abashed than perverted.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“What am I going to wear,” you wondered aloud, stepping through the leg holes. You guessed you could put your costume back on but actually, hell no. The club wasn't big enough to permit sneaking in and out. _Forget about leaving, how am I even going to get down the hall?_ The shorts were _short_ , and might not fare well under current circumstances, unless you walked fast and kept your legs close together.

When Seungri didn't have a quip ready in response, you looked up, suspicious.

He was staring at a wall shelf that held a vase, a clock, and a gold crown. The gold was real, he assured you, a gift from a business associate/VIP who clearly had more money than sense.

He got a funny look on his face, blinking rapidly in that way that let you know he was about to come up with something brilliant, or brilliantly stupid. It could go either way.  He turned to you with an odd little smile and trailed a finger along your nose.

“You can be a queen.”

“Seungri, that's so played out,” you laughed. You'd heard that line more than enough since marrying one of South Korea’s “kings,” starting with Youngbae’s speech at your wedding. You’d forgiven him by the end, when he had everyone in stitches or tears or both, but still.

“Not just any queen,” Seungri said, standing on his tiptoes to retrieve the expensive tchotchke. He strutted over to you and plunked it on your head.

“Wow. It’s heavier than it looks.” You reached up to adjust it. “So am I the Queen Of Mangled Pajamas, or what?”

“Hang on,” he said, opening a drawer in his desk. It held a few spare shirts and ties, a simple set of cuff links. He held out a white one for you to take.

You buttoned the shirt up over your tank while he found his phone and texted like the wind.

“I'll be right back,” you said. He looked up then, giving you a thorough once-over.

“I already know you won't agree, but that is an excellent costume.” He got a little too encouraged when you smirked instead of rejecting him outright, his grin taking on a lewd edge as he followed you to the doorway.

“We’re not exactly the same size,” you said, tugging down on the shirt hem.

“I know,” he said, his fingers taking the hem in the exact opposite direction. “You look really _nice_ , though—“

“Okay, okay, enough.” You grabbed at his grabby hands. “What’s your big plan to get me out of here, Lee? Dignity intact.”

“Dignity is no fun.” You shoved him when he made another grab at you. “Guess you don’t share that opinion either?”

When you came back down the hallway, he was dressed and leaning against the door frame. He gestured you through it, then bowed dramatically.

“Wait here, my queen.” 

“I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be,” you said, pulling down on his shirt again.

He winked and left. You busied yourself by tidying the signs of your visit. Not more than ten minutes later, you heard a polite knock and a familiar voice call out in greeting. You opened the door, gaping at Jiyong’s stylist as she breezed through. She lugged a sizable makeup kit; Seungri followed, a garment bag with Jiyong's name on it folded over his arm.

“What in the world? Where were you hiding?” you said, stepping in for a hug.  Her smile was just as impish as Seungri’s.

“I could ask you the same, but judging by _that_ ,“ she curled her lip at the heap of black fur in the corner, “I think I’ve figured it out. Anyway, that one told me about your little ahh, wardrobe malfunction?”

“Mmm. Yeah, it was something like that.”

Seungri held the bag up for her while she unzipped it. Your jaw dropped when she pulled out the black and gold striped dress. The sequins were so brilliant that they almost hurt your eyes.

“Wow,” you breathed. “Jiyong just had this laying around?”

“He was supposed to wear it tonight,” she said.

“Whaaaa?”

“With these pants.” She plucked at a black pair behind the dress, then pointed at Seungri. “That one knew about it.”

“That one,” Seungri said under his breath. Then he turned it into a little song. “That's me, that one.”  
  
“Jiyong was going to be a bee?”

“Yeah, but he changed his mind at the last minute to that uh, pussy concept.” He grinned when you both stared at him, eyes wide at his word choice. Then he pretended to be unimpressed, though he really just looked fond. “Jiyongie is getting so predictable in his old age.”  
  
The stylist rounded on him, pushing him toward the door.

“Go wait in the hall, you brute. You already ruined her first costume!”  
  
“It wasn't like that!” Seungri protested.

“Let me work in peace!” She closed the door on him, then turned to you, excitement plain on her face. “Honey, we're going to make you look _sharp_.”

 

* * *

You weren't the same size as Jiyong, either, and the borrowed black heels were definitely less comfortable than your Chucks, but the look on Seungri's face when the two of you emerged said it all.

“She's a miracle worker,” you said, embracing the stylist again before she headed back down the stairs.

“Whoa,” Seungri whispered. You let him back you into the wall.

His kisses assuaged most of your self-consciousness, at least until you were poised to reenter the main room of the club. Seungri began to lower the panda head over his actual head. You laid a hand on his arm with a last-minute stab of anxiety.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked softly, reaching up to adjust your crown. Seungri leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on your temple.

“We have nothing to hide,” he said, voice firm with conviction. Then he brightened. “And Jiyongie is going to have kittens, he'll be so happy. Help me get this dumb thing on?”

He held your hand as you entered the fray, at first going unnoticed behind the security detail. By the time you reached the tiny “backstage” area, you were surrounded by friends and coworkers. Jiyong yelled, demanding to know where you got the crown, then another selca session. He took a few with just you and then posed with you and Seungri. You stood in the middle, receiving a proper cheek kiss from Jiyong that was sure to cause a stir. You said as much, though you found yourself caring less and less as the minutes went by.

“Hashtag worth it,” Seungri said, peering down at his phone through the tiny screen in his mask. “We look so cool together, hyung. Thanks for your help.”

“Ugh, don't say hashtag.”

“He says it _all the time_ ,” you confided. Jiyong blanched in sympathy.

“Hashtag you guys wish you were as fun and awesome as me.”

Jonghoon waltzed up, looking far too confident for a man who'd been scared into submission by your simple recitation of his name. He stopped short and gawped.

“What did you do to her?!”

“What! I didn't do anything!” Seungri said, outraged. Jiyong shook his head and stepped in closer to you to enjoy the show.

“What happened to the sexy gorilla?!”

“It was a wardrobe malfunction.”

You and Jiyong snorted at the same time, looked at each other, and burst out laughing. You could tell by his posture that Seungri felt affronted, and he was still under attack.

“Ahhh I see how it is,” Jonghoon said, waggling his eyebrows. “So you'll be needing the baby panda costume for next year, then?”

“ _Bro!_ ” Seungri went for him then, succeeding only in ripping off his cheetah ear headband before Jonghoon dashed away. Seungri followed.

“I thought pandas were supposed to be docile,” Jiyong mused. “But when has Seungri ever even come close.”

“Baby?” you repeated, giving faint voice to the word that echoed through your mind ever since it came out of Jonghoon's mouth. You'd talked about children with Seungri in the past, of course you had, but— “Like, having one? Anytime soon?”

“No way, I am not having this conversation on that pabo's behalf.” Jiyong took his phone out, stabbing at the screen as he placed the call. “SEUNGRI-YA. Quit fucking around and get your thick panda ass back here before I start another pregnancy rumor.”

You coughed out a surprised laugh, amazed as always at Jiyong's resiliency in the face of utter insanity. Jiyong held his phone up again, eyebrows asking the question. You put your face next to his, then watched him send the photo to Seunghyun.

[ _O_ _ffer rescinded_ ], he replied. [ _Not my type._ ]

“I'm kinda concerned that he might actually be into that suit,” Jiyong said.

“Well, the zipper's busted, so you have an excuse...”

Seungri came up behind you, tucking an arm around your waist. You were surprised to see his face, blissfully panda free.

“Sorry about that, you know how he gets—“

“What was that about a _baby_ costume?” you asked. Seungri started to blink.

“Bye!” Jiyong whapped Seungri with his fake tail as he passed by.

Seungri didn't even look at him, his hand at your waist squeezing and releasing with nerves. Then his mouth opened. You braced yourself.

“It doesn't _have_ to be a panda. You should pick it out.”

“What?!”

“You're in charge,” he said, tapping your crown. “Just let me know.”

You took in the wistful expression on his face, wondering how you'd gotten into this. No, this was not at all how you had envisioned the evening.

But that didn't mean you wanted to get out of it.

“As long as it's not a gorilla.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ah another stupid mega cheesy one-liner ending from yours truly! Let’s all join hands and pray to Seunglord that I never write a holiday fic based on my own stupid prompt ever again.


End file.
